


Two Can Keep a Secret if One of Them Has Cash

by acronyx



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: An Abundance of Cursing, Discussion of prostitution, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 11:23:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16345784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acronyx/pseuds/acronyx
Summary: What do you do when you meet your biggest secret at a family friend’s baby shower? Well, Trixie freaks the fuck out.





	Two Can Keep a Secret if One of Them Has Cash

**Author's Note:**

> This was vaguely inspired by Katya’s periscope where she talked about love and sex. And, yes, I decided that Ginger’s given name would be Geraldine because Ginger Spice.
> 
> Slight warnings for discussion of prostitution and a fuckload of swearing.

It had been a stupid, impulsive decision but Trixie hadn’t really regretted it until she saw _her_ stood there in the middle of Ginger’s fucking baby shower.

“Fucking fuck, shit, balls and anus,” Trixie whispered, ducking behind a partition in the grand looking living room, hoping to hell and back that her mother hadn’t heard her. She looked around and caught the disapproving eye of an elderly woman she didn’t know but her mother was thankfully nowhere to be seen. She shot the lady an apologetic grin but didn’t really have time to deal with her shit since she had much bigger problems.

Like, “Mr. President, terrorists have invaded the White House” size problems.

She dared a peek past the partition and swallowed down even more curse words because she hadn’t been imagining it. She was really fucking here.

Trixie clenched her fists, the short fingernails digging into the palms of her hands reminding her that she needed to trim them on the off chance that she was ever going to get laid. She silently cursed the God she didn’t believe in and then cursed a few of the other ones for good measure.

This was just her fucking luck.

“Isn’t this mahogany just beautiful,” Trixie whipped her head to the left where her mother was softly stroking the partition that was currently acting as Trixie’s hiding place.

“Yeah,” she breathed, sounding slightly choked, “it’s stunning.” In truth she found it garish and unnecessary but since it was currently the only thing shielding her from the most awkward encounter she would ever face Trixie was as likely to suck a dick as she was to badmouth it. “Gorgeous,” she emphasised. “The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” She might have taken it slightly too far with that last one if the look her mother shot her was anything to go by.

Trixie wanted to remind her that she could have had a perfectly lovely afternoon at this baby shower all by herself, without her failure of a daughter but, no, ever since the wedding that didn’t happen she’d suddenly been acting all motherly and stressing the importance of them spending time together. Not that she had ever cared to spend time with her before.

For the thousandth time Trixie found herself wishing her fiancée hadn’t left her on the night before their wedding, if only because then she’d be in Chicago having a lie in and eating shitty take-out for lunch instead of in fucking Florida with her fucking mother by her side, faced with the fucking Everest of awkward situations and a room decked out in baby blue.

She wanted to heave.

“Mom, I’m not feeling so well,” she said, in the hopes that she could still escape this shindig relatively unscathed.

“It must be the heat,” her mother said, as if they weren’t stood in a perfectly air conditioned living room, “have something to drink.”

Fat fucking chance. The drinks’ table was right by _her_ and Trixie was perfectly happy to spend the rest of the afternoon standing here, hidden from view, without a drink in her hand.

Of course her flawless plan was foiled by her mother. “Oh, there’s Ginger,” she said, waving over the heavily pregnant redhead, “Geri, darling,” she enthused, kissing both her cheeks, “you look positively glowing, and I love that dress, oh, doesn’t she look lovely, Trixie?”

“Yeah, beautiful,” Trixie agreed in a tone she didn’t kid herself sounded convincing. It wasn’t that Ginger didn’t look pretty, she was wearing a light blue prairie dress, cut just below the knee and genuinely had that sort of glow only true happiness brought along with it. It was just that Trixie could see her life crumbling around her and so it didn’t really matter in the fucking least to her how Ginger looked right at that moment in time.

“Hi, Trixie,” Ginger said in that tone reserved for people who had not spoken to Trixie since before the wedding was called off and felt the need to offer their cloying sympathy without the bluntness of actually saying the words, “I’m sorry your fiancée bailed on you last minute, that must fucking suck.”

To be perfectly honest, Trixie would have preferred bluntness to pity.

Trixie just gave a tight lipped smile, “hey, Ging,” she said, “you look really nice.” Because saying it twice was going to convince her. Fuck. Trixie just wanted to get out of there.

“Thank you,” Ginger said. It still sounded like “I’m sorry your girlfriend fucked off,” so Trixie’s smile grew no less forced.

Thankfully Trixie stopped being a point of focus after that when her mother started gushing over the decorations that she apparently found “ever so darling.” Trixie, personally, found it “ever so” ridiculous how her mother would get around families she believed to be above her social standing. You’d think from the way she acted that they were the Bennets and Ginger was Caroline Bingley.

Trixie allowed herself to zone out, desperately wishing she had a glass of champagne in her hand. Or a bottle.

It wasn’t until Ginger broke out of the rhythmic droning their voices had entered into and exclaimed “oh, Trixie, you simply must meet my best friend,” that her attention was snapped back to the conversation. Then Ginger raised herself up on her tiptoes, which was quite a feat with that child inside her, and waved someone over.

Trixie turned around and her stomach dropped through the fucking floor. Probably dropped through the crust of the earth too. Trixie’s only wish in that moment was to follow it, right down to the earth’s molten core where she could die in peace, hopefully quite quickly.

Of course Trixie hadn’t realistically believed she would be able to get out of there without being noticed by her but she didn’t think she’d be forced to have a fucking conversation with her, much less with her mother by her side.

“This is Katya,” Ginger said, smiling, apparently oblivious to the fact that Trixie was trying to force a heart attack in the hopes that it would get her out of this situation. “Katya, this is Trixie,” she gestured to the blonde who had never been so grateful for full coverage foundation and the fact that she painted on blush. Hopefully it would manage to conceal how red her face had to be, though it was probably too much to hope for that no one noticed the way she was sweating profusely.

Trixie’s tightlipped smile was back in place as she greeted Katya, shaking the hand she held out as if the last time she touched that hand hadn’t been to hand over a wad of cash after those fingers, and those lips, had brought her to climax four fucking times.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Katya said sweetly, and Trixie tried to hide her reaction at the noticeable lack of a Russian accent.

God, how she hoped her upper lip wasn’t visibly sweaty.

“Yeah, you too,” Trixie replied, sounding much less convincing than the Russian. Wait, was she even Russian? The name sounded Russian but she’d obviously lost the heavy accent she had spoken in the last time they had met.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Katya went on, smiling widely in a way that displayed all of her perfect white teeth. Fuck, those had to be fake.

“You have?” Trixie automatically questioned, earning her a slap on the arm from her mother.

“Yes, Geraldine and Trixie have known each other for years,” her mother said. Trixie noticed Katya and Ginger share a look at the use Ginger’s dreaded given name. Ginger had hated it since before she could talk and inform her parents that they had royally fucked her over on that one. Trixie snorted slightly and Katya’s eyes locked with hers, a trace of amusement playing at her lips before Trixie dropped her gaze. “Her mother and I were dear friends, you see.” A mournful sigh, that Trixie felt was more than slightly overplayed, escaped her mother’s lips, “God rest her soul.”

The conversation carried on but Trixie had long since checked out and only gave an obligatory nod every now and then, trying with all her might to keep her eyes from searching out Katya. The older woman apparently had no such qualms, as Trixie could feel her eyes on her more often than not. It wasn’t continuous and Trixie reasoned with herself that she probably didn’t look at Trixie any more than was acceptable when having a group conversation but it felt almost obscene. She was irrationally afraid that someone would look at the two of them and know what Trixie had done; what she had paid Katya to do. She worried that if she locked eyes with the other woman, the whole world would see through her pastel pink dress and know what she looked like with Katya’s fingers and tongue inside her.

So she didn’t look.

As usual her mother managed to ruin Trixie’s perfectly crafted plans with a single sentence. “So, what do you do for a living, Katya dear?” She casually asked, causing Trixie’s eyes to whip to Katya.

“I’m an artist,” she said and Trixie almost laughed. She knew Katya was good with her hands but, honestly, it was more than slightly presumptuous of her to call herself an “artist.”

As if she could read Trixie’s mind, Katya met her gaze for only a moment and Trixie was certain she could see a glint of humour in those eyes before she went on, “I work mostly with assemblage art,” she explained, “which is really just a fancy way of saying that I have an affinity for gluing shit to other shit.” Trixie snorted and lamely tried to pass it off as a cough, one look at Katya determined that it had been thoroughly unconvincing.

“Oh, dear,” her mother said, “I can’t imagine that pays very well.”

“No,” Katya responded, eyes flicking away from Trixie, to her mother, “it doesn’t really,” Trixie coughed again giving Katya cause to turn to her once more, “do you need some water?”

Eagerly grasping the opportunity Katya had just handed her to remove herself from the conversation Trixie immediately responded, “you know, I think that’s a good idea.”

“Great,” Katya said promptly, “I’ll come with you.”

Trixie’s face fell. She was just about to respond that wouldn’t be necessary, in fact it would be wholly unnecessary and counterproductive if the aim of her leaving was to achieve some sense of calm, when her mother spoke, once again inadvertently making things worse. “That is so sweet of you,” she enthused, smiling widely, “Trixie isn’t that sweet?”

“Very,” she responded dryly, giving Katya a look that clearly implied she did not think it sweet in the least.

Still, she followed when Katya lead the way out of the living room, not wanting to cause a scene or be impolite. “Weren’t there drinks in there?” She asked Katya once they were out of earshot of her mother.

“Only cider and champagne,” she replied offhandedly, without slowing her walk or turning to face Trixie.

“Oh,” Trixie said instead of admitting that she would rather fancy a glass, or seven, of champagne. She didn’t speak further until they passed what she had assumed was their destination, “wait, isn’t that the kitchen?” She asked, pointing in the direction of what was quite obviously a kitchen.

She startled slightly when Katya stopped abruptly and turned around. Though Trixie was the taller of the two she was more than slightly intimidated by Katya who was fiercely beautiful and could no doubt smack a bitch down if the need arose. She remembered her athletic body quite vividly and that fucking flexibility. Trixie shook her head slightly, attempting to clear her mind, apparently confusing her brain with an Etch A Sketch.

“Did you actually want water?” Katya questioned, “because I was just going to drag you out for a smoke,” she smiled disarmingly. Okay, yeah. If she was a smoker then those teeth were definitely fake.

“I don’t smoke,” Trixie said, only hesitating slightly.

“I don’t care,” Katya replied, smile still in place, before she turned her back and continued walking, correctly assuming that Trixie would follow behind.

Apparently Katya did not find the balcony to be an acceptable place for a smoke, instead heading out the door once she had located her purse that contained three packs of cigarettes. Now, Trixie wasn’t a smoker but she was rather certain that was an alarming amount of cigarettes to bring to a baby shower. 

“What, are you going to gift these to Ginger for her shower?” Trixie asked, prompting a wheezy laughter from Katya that was nothing like the polite little laugh she’d had when they were upstairs talking to the others.

“No,” Katya said, lighting a cigarette as soon as they were out of doors, “apparently her doctor had a problem with women smoking while pregnant so the poor thing had to give it up. These are just here to rub it in her face that I’m not with child and therefore get to enjoy life.”

Trixie laughed, not entirely certain how serious Katya was being.

As Katya smoked she walked away from the house, the reason the balcony was unacceptable becoming immediately clear when Katya got straight to the point.

“You know, for someone who went to college for acting you’re astoundingly bad at pretending I haven’t fucked you.” Had Trixie been drinking she would have done an impressive spit take at that, as it was she just choked on air causing Katya to laugh unabashedly at her. “Just relax, okay?” She took another long drag of her cigarette, “no one in there knows what I do to pay the bills besides art. No one is going to suspect anything, okay? So please just relax.”

Trixie, who had stopped in her tracks as Katya spoke, gave a slightly jerky nod. She was having trouble meeting the older woman’s eye but mustered up the courage to do just that before speaking. “It’s just,” she hesitated, “you know, I haven’t ever really, you know, done anything like this before. It’s not like I’m a seasoned pro at paying for sex.”

Katya snorted, shaking her head in what looked like something between irritation and amusement. She drew a final drag of her cigarette and, pulling one of the three packs out of her purse stubbed it out on the inside of the carton, dropping the stub into the otherwise empty container. She hadn’t even fully exhaled the smoke before she reached for another pack and drew out her second cigarette. “I know,” she sighed, lighting the new one, “you only told me like sixty times before I even got my fingers wet.”

Trixie felt the urge to apologise but she bit down on that impulse. She wasn’t about to apologise for explaining herself.

“It’s not like I care, you know,” Katya said, exhaling smoke, “I wouldn’t really be in a position to judge you if you paid for pussy 24/7.”

Trixie laughed softly but there was no real humour behind it.

“So, what’s your story then?” She asked, though it sounded as though she might just be doing Trixie a favour by letting her talk about it, she didn’t really sound all that interested in the answer. “Are you a good little Christian who got married just as her mother always wanted her to and didn’t realise until she saw her husband’s cock that she was gay as fuck?”

“Hardly,” Trixie answered, tugging unnecessarily at the hem of her dress. What did she usually do with her hands? They were getting in her way. “Quite the opposite actually.” Katya arched an eyebrow in a way that indicated she didn’t really know what the opposite of that might be. Trixie supposed that was fair enough. “I was planning on marrying a girl I loved despite the raging homophobia of my stepdad and my mother’s willingness to go along with it. I just failed to fucking do that.” Trixie bit the inside of her cheek, meeting Katya’s gaze head on. It had only been about three months so the hurt was still relatively fresh. “She left me the night before our wedding day,” she admitted, dreading the pity she had come to expect from people.

However, there was none of that from Katya. She simply drew some smoke in and, after dispelling it, said, “that fucking sucks.”

Trixie let out a weak laugh because, yeah, it rather did.

“I found your contact details a few weeks later in the pocket of the jacket I wore to my hen party. Someone had given them to me as a joke.” She looked right at Katya, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Suddenly it didn’t seem so funny anymore.”

Trixie cleared her throat, breaking the eye contact, “I messaged you on an impulse and you pretty much know the rest.”

There was silence for a while, except for Katya’s inhalation and exhalation of smoke.

“Do you regret it?” She finally asked.

Trixie had thought she did. When she saw Katya there at Ginger’s place she had honestly thought it was the stupidest thing she had ever done but when faced with the question, with no one there to judge her, she found that the answer was simple. “No,” she said frankly.

Katya nodded and stubbed out her second cigarette, throwing it in the carton that apparently functioned as her temporary ashtray. Then she walked up to Trixie and tucked the stubborn lock of hair that kept coming loose behind her ear once more. “You’re cute, Trixie,” she said with a smile, “you’ll find someone who isn’t a fucking idiot eventually.”

Then she leaned in and pressed her lips to Trixie’s for a brief kiss.

“It doesn’t hurt that you’re good in bed too,” she added, flashing those brilliantly white teeth once more before walking away, back in the direction of the house.

Trixie stood there for a moment longer, until the sound of Katya’s heels on the pavement could no longer be heard and the breeze had blown away the faint smell of smoke she had left behind.

Then she turned on her heel and followed after her.


End file.
